Full Circle
by Jarhead
Summary: Five years after ROTJ, something happens that will change Gotham forever.


Batman Beyond: Full Circle   
  
Batman Beyond: Full Circle  
  
  
By Jarhead (jarhead_h@yahoo.com)  
  
Rating: PG-13ish for violence  
  
Notes: This takes place about five years after BB:ROTJ. Things have changed a little, people have grown up abit.  
  
Genre: Action/Suspense  
  
Disclaimer:Blah, blah, whatever  
  
  
*********************************************  
  
  
… In other news, the once reclusive Gotham billionaire Bruce Wayne, now in his eighties, is reportedly listed in critical condition, and possibly dying, following an attack at a downtown board meeting…   
  
{Click}  
  
"Damn reporters." The young executive turned his attention from the blank screen to the patient lying in the hospital bed next to him. The old man still looked tough, his indomitable will showing through even now. Even with third degree burns covering most of his body.  
  
A sound escaped from the old man's lips, barely perceptible, "Did you call him?"  
  
"I couldn't get through. Tim and Barbara are still trying."   
  
Nothing.  
  
"Grayson will be here, Bruce."   
  
Silence.  
  
"I'm going to check with Drake." The original Batman's head nodded, almost imperceptibly. Terry got up and left.  
  
  
**********************   
  
  
"Hey, Oracle. You got anything for me?" The dark figure landed gracefully on a rooftop and ran to the other side, stopping to scan for trouble.  
  
Over the comm. unit came, You guys never ask for anything simple. I bet there's something on the computer in the cave…   
  
"You know Bruce would give birth to something if we let you in there." Her voice was lacking most of the attitude normally there.   
  
Anyway, the security cam footage Terry sent me had to be enhanced big time, but I found something. The medallion on the sword is from a supposedly defunct sect of nutcases known as the Order of St. Dumas, dating back to the Crusades. The Vatican says the order was never sanctioned, but that didn't stop them. They ravaged a small, but wealthy, area in the Middle East before disappearing without a trace.   
  
"And now someone from their order is torching prominent businessmen with flaming swords. When Terry finds Grayson maybe we can see if Bruce has anything on them."  
  
How is the old man, Mel?   
  
"The doctors say he's gonna' to die soon, Max. He's one big third degree burn. There's nothing they can do."  
  
It isn't your fault, Melanie. You and Terry did everything you could to stop it. Got that, Batgirl?   
  
"Yeah." Now if only she could believe that. If only she could get out of her head the image of Terry in being tossed aside like a rag doll, and of Mr. Wayne getting roasted alive. She had been too late to stop it, and then the guy had escaped.   
  
Bruce Wayne and Terry McGuinness were the reason she had been able to leave behind her "family". And this morning, no matter what anybody said, she knew that she had failed both of them.   
  
  
**********************   
  
  
The young executive decided to answer the phone ringing in his suit pocket, "McGuiness."  
  
Hey. The voice was low, but distinctly feminine, and tinged with concern.  
  
"Hey, Danes."  
  
I just heard. How is he?   
  
"The doctors can't do anything for him. It's just a matter of time."  
  
And how are you?   
  
"How am I supposed to be? He's dying Dana. He's dying because I wasn't good enough."  
  
Terry, not even Batman can save everybody-   
  
"But I couldn't even save someone ten feet from me! Bruce would never have blown it that miserably." He sighed, suddenly very tired; "I haven't been up against a serious bad guy for a long time now. I got cocky, and I almost got wasted. And the guy I was trying to protect DID get wasted. He just isn't dead yet."  
  
I bet even Bruce couldn't have gotten out of that any better than you did.   
  
"Whatever." The elevator door opened, revealing a hallway.  
  
Do you have any idea who did it?   
  
"No. Max is running a search; she'll let us know when she finds something. Melanie is out scouting. But she hasn't checked back."  
  
You don't think anything's happened, do you?   
  
"No. Any drastic change in her vitals and I would have been beeped."  
  
"Oh… so… are… are you and her-   
  
"Dana now is not the time for this." _Please._  
  
I'm sorry Terry. I really am. But I just couldn't stand the waiting any more. I couldn't stand wondering whether or not that would be the night that you didn't come home. I just couldn't take it.   
  
"Dana I've got to go. There're some people I've got to talk to standing in front of me." About a hundred feet or so in front, but she doesn't have to know that.  
  
Bye.   
  
"Bye Danes." {Beep} The phone went back into his pocket. He never stopped to think about the fact that he was becoming more like his mentor every day. Terry closed the distance between himself and the much older man at the phone booth.   
  
"Any luck Tim?"  
  
"No, Dick isn't answering his phone. Any of them."  
  
"Keep trying. I'm going to go back up." The former boy wonder nodded.  
  
His phone rang again. "McGuiness."  
  
No sign of a techno-knight with a flaming sword. Has Oracle called you yet?   
  
"No. What did she find?"  
  
Our killer belongs to some cult called the Order of St. Dumas. Real nice bunch of folks. No clue as to his whereabouts, or why he was after Mr. Wayne.   
  
"I'll ask the old man. I think Bruce recognized the guy."  
  
I'll keep looking.   
  
"Be careful Mel."  
  
Always. {Beep}  
  
Terry continued on his way back up to his mentor's room. The hospital had cleared one for this patient, as he was the president of the most powerful corporation in town. If Wayne had been lucid at the time, he would have objected. But as far as Terry was concerned, a private room to die in was the least this city could do for her greatest hero.  
  
Speaking of rooms, why was the door to Bruce's open slightly? Terry remembered shutting it. He rushed forward and barged through, expecting to be in the fight of his life, or apologizing to a health care professional.  
  
Instead he stopped and stared at the man standing at the foot of his mentor's bed. He stood about six feet tall, mid fifties to early sixties, with a bearing reminiscent of the man occupying the bed in the room. He had a silver ponytail reaching his shoulder blades, with his style of dress indicating a professional of some sort.   
  
"You must be Grayson."  
  
"And you must be Bruce's latest… assistant. Tim told me about you." The older man still hadn't looked away from the dying man. "Do you know who did this?"  
  
"We have an idea-"  
  
"Then why aren't you out there?" Grayson had spun towards Terry then, his voice both outraged and accusing. Terry wasn't about to be intimidated.  
  
"HE asked me to stay and find YOU. So if I were you I would try to make your peace with him-"  
  
"Are… you two… done?" That last sentence had been barely audible. Both men turned towards the one they viewed as their adopted father. "Need you both… here… for this. Dick..."  
  
"Yeah. I'm here." Grayson was clenching his jaw, getting ready for the worst.  
  
"I'm sorry." That, he had not expected. "I'm sorry… Son. I should have told you… I never gave you that…"  
  
Dick was visibly shaken. He had gone from defensive to lost in about a second, not quite knowing where to begin. But he had to say something, "It's… it's okay. It's okay… Br- Dad." Dick was holding Bruce's hand. He was also visibly fighting back tears. "It's alright."  
  
"As long as… you know."  
  
"It's alright." Dick couldn't stop repeating that, because it was, somehow. He couldn't remember why he'd been so angry. Or maybe it just wasn't important anymore. The man who raised him was dying, that was all that mattered.  
  
"… Take my place."  
  
"Wha- I-"  
  
"Terry needs… an ally at Wayne Enterprises… I'd… I'd like you…."  
  
"I-I'll have to think about it." Bruce nodded. He understood: the man he was talking to had spent his life being a cop. It was a little late for a career change, but Tim probably didn't want the job and Terry evidentially wasn't ready. That left Barbara, but because of Dick's pride, she had gone from being Bruce's future daughter-in-law to being his ex-girlfriend. That disqualified her, and besides, she was probably too valuable as Gotham's police commissioner.  
  
That left Dick. This train of thought was derailed when Terry asked Bruce a question, "Bruce, what do you know about the Order of St. Dumas?" The old man didn't respond right away.  
  
Finally, he said two words, "It's gone."  
  
  
***********************************  
  
  
"You mean Dick's already here? Where is he?"  
  
Terry told Tim and Barbara about finding the former Nightwing already in Bruce's room. They rushed out of the cafeteria in that direction. Terry let out an exhausted sigh. He walked over to the coffeepot by one of the windows and poured himself a cup. He took a sip, not really tasting it, and set it down. Terry pressed his forehead on the cool glass and shut his eyes.   
  
God, how could I have screwed up this badly? McGuinness opened his eyes and stared out at the city that stretched in front of him. It was night out, and Gotham was lit up like nothing had happened. Why wouldn't it be; there weren't many people that knew just who was going to die soon.  
  
Something caught his attention on a rooftop across the street from the hospital. Someone in a blood-red cape, hood, and mask had walked into view and seemed to be staring at him. The figure poked his arm outside of his cape, and held it at an upward angle, his fist obscuring the right side of where his chin would be under his mask.  
  
Suddenly a flaming blade extended out of his arm, and then he pointed at Terry. Then he pointed up twice, and waited for some sort of reaction. Terry narrowed his eyes, and then nodded. From the caped figure's hand shot some sort of grapple towards the roof of the hospital, and then he went up out of view.  
  
Terry spun on his heal and sprinted for the door, knocking over the coffee pot and then jumping over a table as if he were an Olympic hurdler. This SOB was going to pay.  
  
  
***********************************   
  
  
The masked figure stood looking out over the edge of the hospital roof. What was taking the kid SO long? If this "Batman" had half of the tenacity of the original, he would have been here long since-  
  
What sounded like a gunshot coming from behind woke him out of his musing. He spun and extended the blade on his right arm, cutting the speeding bat-shuriken cleanly in two. It had been attached to a cord, meaning the kid had wanted to wrap him up before pounding on him.   
  
Jean Paul Valley shook his head and dropped his defensive stance, pulling Azrael's face off, revealing a scarred face and the silver-blond hair of a man that age had been very kind to. As an avenging angel, he understood, but as one who had fought beside the Batman, he could not allow this young one to throw away his life like that. The need for vengeance would cloud his judgement, and that would get him killed against the opponent he would be facing.  
  
"I'm not here to fight you, Batman. I'm here to help. I know who attacked Mr. Wayne."  
There was silence. Apparently this new Batman was not the most trusting sort. Before he could say any more he felt his arm twist around behind his back and then he was shoved forward onto the ground. Without Azrael's face covering his own, he was powerless.  
  
"Talk." The voice was very different. It was just as cold, but not as deep. Considering the circumstances, his tone was also probably harsher than normal. But then again, maybe not.  
  
"My name is Jean Paul Valley. I'm a former member of the Order of St. Dumas. I helped the original Batman destroy them." His head was still being ground into the roof. "The one who attacked Bruce was called Azrael. I can help you fight him."  
  
"Why should I believe you?" His tone was clearly scoffing.  
  
"Don't take my word for it. I should have a file in the Bat cave's computer." No response, it was time to get a little more personal. "Is the clock still in front of the entrance to the cave? How's the manor holding up since Alfred died?" Apparently this was enough to convince him for now. He let Jean Paul up.  
  
"How are you going to be any help in fighting him?"  
  
"Because I used to have his job." Jean Paul flexed his wrist, feeling the lingering pain from the wristlock ebb away. He turned around slowly. Batman stood unwaveringly; ready to begin beating on him if he so much as twitched incorrectly.   
  
"I'm wondering how he got by me the first time, if you're any indication." And the kid definitely had an attitude.  
  
"I'm not a good indicator. Not right now; I'm not wearing the mask."  
  
"So?"  
  
"It triggers my abilities. Without it, I'm nothing. With it, I could have killed you." The kid gestured for Jean Paul to continue. "The mask activates a series of subliminal commands called 'The System'. When combined with some prenatal genetics work, it makes the person almost super-human. It was enough to turn a pasty computer geek into someone who could go toe to toe with the Bat, and that was back in my day. The Order has probably made some improvements since."  
  
The kid nodded, gesturing for him to continue.   
  
"Thirty years ago, Bruce liberated me from the Order, and then we took it down, or at least I thought we did. Then I heard about the guy with the flaming sword and I had to come back. Somehow, somebody survived, and they connected the dots and figured out who he was."  
  
"Wait a minute, you KILLED them?"  
  
"I'm an Azrael. It's what we do. It's why Bruce didn't give me that suit you're wearing."  
  
"He was going to ask YOU to take over for him?"  
  
"His heart was giving him problems even back then. He started to train me to take on the mantle of the Bat."  
  
"And then you murdered the entire Order." It was not a question.  
  
"They were monsters!" Jean Paul took a second to cool down, then continued, "It was poetic justice; their own monster killed them. That's why he didn't have me imprisoned. But the Batman does not kill, so he told me to take a hike. A year later there was a hostage situation. It was the last known sighting of the Bat, until you came along."  
  
"YOU were his last hope? That explains lots of things, his bitterness, why he gave up…" Batman shook his head. "Enough history, let's skip to current events. You said you used to be an Azrael, so if you were him, where would you be?"  
  
"On my way here."  
  
"What? Bruce is dying. He has got to know that. There's no way-"  
  
"Bruce is not shaking with terror, or in any pain; he's comfortable, relatively. The medical personnel are making sure of that. Azrael's mission is not yet finished. He is an angel of vengeance, the Order's instrument of 'righteous cruelty.' He'll come to finish the job."  
  
Batman let his arms fall to his sides and clenched his fists, "In that case, when he gets here, I'll nail him."   
  
Jean Paul pulled Azrael's face back over his own. And then he felt himself floating above his own body. It was a sensation that he had become well acquainted with in the decades since he first donned it. "_Unless I get to him first_..."  
  
  
…The voice was inhuman. Where Bruce had taught him to intimidate and to strike fear in those doing evil, this voice was meant to terrorize those who were about to die. God, could he be lying? Could Bruce have ever considered making this… this… assassin into the Batman? Maybe Bruce's bitter streak really COULD be blamed on that, at least in part.   
  
Terry heard a very familiar sound behind him. It was the sound of his partner's feet making a smooth landing on the roof behind him. Azrael heard it, too, and if Terry hadn't seen him without the mask, he never would have believed the guy was a day older than thirty. That meant the young Azrael was going to have the reflexes of a zeta unit.  
  
Speaking of Azrael… "Back off nutsy!" Terry jumped between the assassin and Batgirl. "She's with me." The flaming blades retracted back into his gauntlets, slowly. The killer turned and again moved to the roof's edge.  
  
"_He will not be visible until he strikes. I shall be waiting._ " Then he jumped over the side. Melanie made a move forward, but Terry stopped her.  
  
"He's got a grapple, he'll be fine."  
  
"I thought WE were the only costumed nutcases around here these days. What's his story?"   
  
"His name's Jean Paul Valley. Bruce helped him take down the Order of St. Dumas a few decades ago. Call him the much older brother to the guy we're looking for."  
  
"But if they took down the Order-"  
  
"Somebody got away."  
  
"Oh, 'somebody.' Well I'm glad the suspect list has been narrowed down, because not knowing who was sending super-human killers after us had me kinda worried." She turned towards him, her face apologetic, "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that –"  
  
"We should join Jean Paul." Terry did not want to deal with this right now, and decided Jean Paul had the right idea. He jumped, knowing that the only open window visible likely would be Bruce's and he'd glide right in. However, Terry was not prepared for the sight that greeted him when he came in for a landing.   
  
This caused him to falter on his flight path. His right hand caught the window curtain, ripping it from the wall just enough to block the window, and sending him rolling across the floor. He recovered and took in the scene unfolding.  
  
Grayson was lying in a heap over to one corner, hopefully still breathing. Jean Paul, on the other hand, was locked in a sword duel with the Azrael who had sealed Bruce's fate yesterday. The two avenging angels were equally engaged in a battle of words as they were in the clashing of swords.   
  
"_Azrael is an instrument of the Order's vengeance_-"  
  
"_The Order has become corrupt! They seek not the will of St. Dumas! Do not continue in their service_!"  
  
"Blasphemer!" Terry decided this was his best chance to take down the murderer, while the SOB was distracted. He took aim and fired a bola webbing to immobilize his target. The target moved, the webbing wrapped around Jean Paul, the two shurikens at either end of the cord pinning the aged assassin to the wall.   
  
The young Azrael suddenly dashed for Terry. He raised his blade preparing to slash. Terry reacted by flipping sideways, just out of the path of the swinging arc of flame. Terry watched his attacker continue towards the window and in one fluid motion slice the curtain and jump over the windowsill.   
  
Azrael's jump had been aimed at the police vehicle that had pulled in. The cops weren't expecting someone to crash through the windshield like he did. The car suddenly lost stability until Azrael took the controls, that is, after he grabbed the cops and tossed them out.  
  
Terry looked back long enough to shoot a bat-shuriken at the cord holding Jean Paul, freeing him, and then jumped and went into free-fall. Then he fired his boot-thrusters to catch up to the two cops about to become street pizza.   
  
"Melanie! Follow that cop car!" He knew she'd flip out her "wing". It was exactly what she once rode on as "Ten" of the Royal Flush gang, except shaped and painted like the old Bat-signal instead of a playing card.  
  
I'm on it!   
  
Terry focussed on the ground, which was rushing at him much faster than it normally would. He had mere moments until those two officers were dead. His targeting sensors were telling him they were almost in range… Now! A grapple shot out of each of his arms and wrapped around the ankles of each man.   
  
Terry righted himself, hoping his foot jets would be enough to stop their decent. This had to work; it just had to. This guy was not going to hurt anybody else, not if Terry could help it. He dimly realized he had stopped falling and was hovering in mid air.   
  
He looked down, afraid that he was going to have another failure on his conscience. Both cops were flailing their arms in panic. He let out a heavy breath, relieved. The officers' heads had stopped just a tad more than a foot off of the ground, or so the mask's laser range finder was telling him. He dropped them and shot straight up, keying the Batmobile to intercept him. It appeared directly overhead; he flew straight up through the hatch and took off.  
  
"Melanie, where are you?"  
  
Fifth and Main. I've almost caught up to him.   
  
"Stop him. I'll be there in thirty seconds!" Terry gunned the accelerator, knowing it was just a matter of moments before he caught up. The Wayne Tech aerial cruisers that Gotham police used weren't very much faster than their land based counterparts. On the other hand, Bruce had always told him the Batmobile was capable of mach 3. He tried to push beyond that, knowing that he'd be there before even breaking the sound barrier.   
  
The car wasn't handling quite right. Something was causing excessive drag. When Terry looked back with the monitors, his jaw dropped in amazement.   
  
Jean Paul was holding his grappling line for dear life, which was attached to the Batmobile. He was being dragged through the air like a horizontal water-skier. Terry looked forward again, still not believing what he was seeing. He decided against slowing down, trusting that the aging assassin knew what he was doing. Besides, nothing else was getting between him and Bruce's killer.  
  
There they are. He watched Melanie throw some plastic explosive into the stolen cars engine duct. The driver veered sideways after the explosion, crash-landing on the rooftop on one of the downtown skyscrapers.  
  
Terry dropped out of the hatch as the car soared over the building. He spread his wings and glided in, hitting the roof running. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a news van hovering above them…  
  
  
******************************************   
  
  
The boss flipped her phone open, "Commissioner Gordon." The sergeant driving them heard, "Oh great." She flipped a switch on the dash; the monitor imbedded there flashed to life.  
  
…I can see what looks to be Batman, Batgirl, and two unknown costumed figures, both matching the description of the mystery assailant who attacked Bruce Wayne earlier today. They all appear to be engaged in some sort of battle. A semi-transparent anchorman appeared briefly; The voice you are hearing is Channel five's own Jerry Rivers, live from downtown Gotham…  
  
"Vultures." The commissioner balled a fist in anger, "Sergeant, get this tin can moving! Burn the engines out if you have to!"  
  
"Aye ma'am!"  
  
She punched in the Comm channel and spoke into the mike; "This is Commissioner Gordon to all units. I want the area around Seventh and Main sealed NOW. No one gets in or out!" In response, came what seemed to be about three hundred "affirmative's…  
  
  
*******************************************  
  
  
The Kid was getting his head handed to him. Batman had just narrowly managed to avoid getting cleaved in half when Jean Paul swung on to the roof. Jean Paul started running towards the duel, hoping to shift the odds in their favor.   
  
He paused momentarily when he came upon "Batgirl." Caring about those in pain had been an impulse he had been thankfully unable to ever rid himself of. There had been times when he had thought that maybe he could be a guardian angel, and save lives. But each time the role of avenging angel had forced its way back in. Maybe in another life.  
  
She was kneeling on the ground, shaking her head slowly as if to clear it. Jean Paul decided she would be all right and resumed his sprint. He watched as Batman took a kick to the head, shooting him into the side of an air-conditioning unit. The young Azrael stood over him, preparing to make the kill.  
  
Both blades slid out and ignited from Jean Paul's gauntlets as he neared his target. He swung as the young Azrael began his. Jean Paul was surprised when the young Azrael's blade missed Batman and instead deflected his attack. And his next attack. And the next.  
  
The two avenging angels were again locked in a desperate struggle. The young one despite his speed seemed to be having trouble defending against both blades of the older. This continued on until Jean Paul noticed an opening; the young one had made a small error in leaving one side less guarded. It was an error that would be exploited. The elderly Azrael began a spin kick, which connected with the side of the young one's head.  
  
Following through on the kick, Jean Paul allowed himself a tiny smile of triumph. The smile changed to an expression of horror when he realized what had just happened. The young one had baited him, and as Jean Paul followed through on his spin, so did the young Azrael. In the young one's hands, the sword shifted position and was shoved backwards.  
  
Jean Paul felt the sword as its tip pierced the skin of his back. Looking down on himself, he had watched the blade exit from his chest armor. He'd been run clean through. He felt the sword as it was yanked from his body. A final blow to his head sent him crashing to the roof.  
  
Rather odd experience, being both a participant and an observer of one's own death.   
  
His heart no longer beat in his chest. He felt himself easing back into his body. Jean Paul had failed in his mission to avenge Bruce Wayne, like he had failed to overcome the Order. He had tried his whole life to be a force for good, instead of an instrument of evil, but in the end, he had failed at that too. Perhaps he had failed in everything his entire life. Perhaps it did not matter any longer; there was a light.   
  
He could not miss it, for it almost blinded him with its intensity. It did not consume him, yet it enveloped him in tender warmth. Somehow he knew that if got up and walked towards it, the light would lead him home…  
  
  
***  
  
  
There was nothing Terry could do for Jean Paul, so he shifted his focus to the one he could help. He started towards Melanie, watching her land a wallop of a kick to the young Azrael while he was distracted with the steadily forming pool of blood from Jean Paul. Then he watched her double over with a retaliatory blow to the stomach.  
  
The killer began to raise his sword. Terry gunned his boot rockets and flew straight for the fray. His shoulder connected squarely with Azrael's back, sending them both sprawling. They got up at about the same time and evaluated each other.  
  
Terry was going to be a walking bruise. The suit was torn in a few places, and he had cuts in each one. Azrael had dropped his sword, and seemed to be favoring his right leg. Maybe the hit had jarred something. That meant he wasn't invincible after all.  
  
But he was still dangerous. No he was more than dangerous. Melanie was up and about again; ready to carry on the fight, and the blaring of police sirens could easily be heard. Azrael was being backed into a corner. That would make him desperate, and therefore deadlier than ever. But it could also make him slip up.  
  
Terry fired a bolo at him, and started running. Azrael moved out of the way and into the path of Terry's running kick. Azrael grabbed his foot on the way down, taking Terry with him. Somehow Azrael managed to end up on top in the ensuing struggle, both of his hands wrapped around Terry's throat.  
  
One punch. Two. Three. He wasn't letting go.  
  
Okay, two can play this… A bolo fired from Terry's wrist; it was his last. It wrapped around Azrael's neck, distracting him enough for Batman to throw him off. Terry rolled over trying to catch his breath. Then he felt a kick to the ribs. Then another kick, this one rolling him over onto his back.  
  
Azrael began walking around Terry. He was holding one end of the bolo that had been wrapped around his neck, and started twirling it. The other end still had a bat shuriken attached, which if he decided to bring down on Terry's head, would cleave it in half. But he didn't get the chance.  
  
Azrael's legs got wrapped with another bolo, one of Batgirl's. He lost his balance, falling towards Terry. Terry kicked up with both of his legs, sending the avenging angel flipping over him. Terry had intended for Azrael to land on his back, but Terry miscalculated how close he was to the roof's edge.  
  
For half a second after he realized what he had done, Terry considered letting the bastard go splat. But Bruce wouldn't have, and that was good enough for Terry.  
  
He jumped up and dove over after him, hitting the boot jets. He fired one of his last remaining grapple lines, catching the assassin's leg, and then arched forward. He began pulling up as he neared the building across the street. About a second after he was beginning his ascent, he felt the line go slack and let go. Azrael had just impacted into the window on the skyscraper.  
  
Terry continued to climb as he snapped his wings out. He arched his back, changing the airflow sending him into a loop. As he neared the bottom he spotted Azrael through the broken window getting up, and he gunned the jets. He aimed for the window. He aimed for Azrael…  
  
  
***  
  
  
Commissioner Barbara Gordon watched helplessly from the ground as her chief suspect fell from a forty-story building. Her men simply weren't going to be able to catch him on the way down. But then one of the bats appeared, a black spec against the glass of the building. He was speeding down trying to catch him.   
  
It was Terry. He shot a line out, catching the falling man around the leg. Barbara watched as he swung the perp into the skyscraper across the street, and then pulled into a loop. She felt a twinge of envy. Bruce had never given her a suit that would do that.  
  
Batman went through the now broken fourth story window in a hurry. Barbara heard the crash from where she was standing across the street. Batgirl flew in after him a moment later. Then nothing.  
  
She spun around to her subordinate, "Sergeant Michaels!" He was the SWAT commander. And he was standing right there, "Michaels, is your team ready?"  
  
"And waiting, ma'am."  
  
"You saw where they went, sarge!"  
  
"Yes ma'am!" He ran back to his squad, who then broke into a run to the office building. Some of them stacked up on either side of the front glass double doors. One of the officers standing back shouldered his rifle and fired some kind of large projectile at the doors. A net exploded out, landing square and sticking. The shaped charges weaved into the net exploded the door inward.  
  
The team then began filing in one by one.  
  
Barbara pulled her gun and ran after them. She had just entered the lobby of the building, as the last few members of the team were announcing, "clear". Michaels turned to her, "The lobby is secured ma'am."  
  
A light above the elevator indicated that someone was on the way down. One of the officers shouted it out and every other man pointed their weapons in that direction.   
  
Three.  
  
Two.   
  
Ding.  
  
The doors began to slide open; everybody tensed. If it was that maniac, he was going down in a hail of gunfire. If-  
  
It was Batgirl.   
  
She was holding up a bloodied and battered Batman. His left arm was tied tight to his body, immobilized. His weight was all on his right leg, as his left was dragging. His suit was torn in too many places to count, with many cuts that were going to leave some very visible scars.  
  
Weapons went down slowly, more from the shock of seeing Gotham's champion that badly hurt than anything else. No one spoke.  
  
They hobbled up to her. Batman brought his arm over Batgirls head and held it outstretched. That was when Barbara noticed he was holding something, a piece of cloth. She reached out with an open palm, and he dropped it into her hand. It was a hood. She looked at him questioningly.  
  
"He shouldn't be much trouble now." It looked like it had hurt to say that. Then put his arm back around Batgirl, and they hobbled him out to a waiting Batmobile.   
  
  
***  
  
  
Terry sat with his left leg elevated and arm in a sling. Melanie sat next to him, fidgeting, looking lost. The others were talking quietly. Dick and Barbara had a heart to heart, earlier. Dick would be coming back to Gotham to take over for Bruce at Wayne Enterprises.  
  
Terry didn't know what to feel about that. He was happy that he didn't have the responsibly on the one hand, but on the other it felt like Bruce hadn't trusted him to do that job too. But talking about it with Melanie had helped some.  
  
The job offer was a peace offering. It was a chance for Bruce to show Dick that he loved him and was proud of him. It was a chance to bring him back to the family, to show him that he trusted him with the mission of aiding Batman. And it was a chance for Bruce to see that Terry was not burdened as he had been growing up.   
  
That was especially important. Terry now had a singular goal: hunt down and destroy the Order of St. Dumas. This time it would be for keeps.  
  
Bruce was in his own bed now. Wayne-Tech doctors were buzzing around him, doing what little they could to keep him comfortable. Bruce hadn't been awake for hours now; the doctors didn't believe that he would regain consciousness. The heart monitor was almost the only sign that he was still among the living.  
  
The monitor soon registered him as going into cardiac arrest.   
  
Dick restrained the medical techs. Bruce had not wanted to be put on artificial respiration, but to die naturally. Terry could see tears running down Grayson's cheeks, while Barbara squeezed his hand. Melanie rested her head on Terry's chest; he put his arm around her. Tim bowed his head…  
  
  
… A young man looked on the scene with curiosity. He asked, "Why is everyone so sad?" He looked at the old man lying there, and understanding dawned, "I'm, I'm dead?"  
  
"Yes, love."   
  
That voice- he whirled around to face her, "Andy?"  
  
Andrea Beaumont walked in to the room. She reached for him, and hugged him tightly. "I've missed you so much. We all have."  
  
From the doorway he heard an English accent that had not graced these walls in decades, "Master Bruce?"  
  
"Alfred?"  
  
Another set of voices, not heard since a thug silenced them in an alley so many years ago, "We're so proud of you son."  
  
"Mom, Dad?"  
  
Andrea took his hand, "It's time to come home, Bruce."   
  
"Home?"   
  
"It's just through that door, just beyond the light."  
  
And so he followed her in…  
  
  
  
  
End.  
  
  
  



End file.
